Yeux Sur Le Visage
by Abe Lincoln Lover
Summary: The Phantom of the Opera has been placed in three different scenarios. How will he react?
1. Scenario Impossible 1

The Giry girl stepped through the scattered papers. Spying a mask, she picked it up and studied it. _The Phantom's mask! _she exclaimed inwardly. The infamous Opera Ghost's mask was lying right in her hand, gleaming white in all its majesty. Her heart pounded... she was in love, she decided.

Closing her eyes, she tried to control her heartbeat. When her trying failed, she decided it was unnecessary anyway, and looked around the lair. Smashed mirrors, probably just broken a short while before, indicated that the Phantom had left through one. Meg lifted the curtain over one to find a dark tunnel, much like the one she had found behind Christine's dressing room mirror.

Sucking in a breath, she walked through the dark walls. Her footsteps echoed throughout the place, and she secretly hoped the Phantom would here and spirit her away like he had with Christine. Lifting her gaze, she noticed the ceiling was arched slightly, meaning the builder was an experienced architect (or contractor) with excellent taste. Her heart throbbed with the exercise it was getting... the architect probably was the Phantom.

Christine had spoken of an Angel of Music, a voice so beautiful that it could make others' voices beautiful as well. Had the Phantom posed as this Angel?

_Christine, you had your chance. He's mine now, _Meg thought, wishing her "friend" could hear it. _You wasted your chance. My turn._

Meg stumbled around in the darkness. Turning around, she saw two yellow eyes in the distance. She started walking towards them, then broke into a run. The eyes widened, and suddenly the ballet girl remembered something – the Phantom's eyes were green. At least, they were green when he was singing to his love on the stage. Why weren't they green?

She skidded to a halt directly in front of the Phantom. His horrifying face looked worse than she remembered. _I thought it was just half his face! _she disgustedly thought.

The Phantom's face was that of a corpse – sunken eyes, misshapen lips, four strands of hair, high cheekbones, thin flesh. It was disturbing. She looked straight into the endless pits of darkness that the monster before her used instead of eyes. Her eyes widened, and she bent over, throwing up.

Looking up at him once more, she saw a sadness in his eyes, but it quickly changed to anger. The Giry girl took one last look at him and fainted. The monster looked down on her as she fell to the floor, and stepped over her unconscious body to continue on his way. _Had it been a man, he would have been dead, _Erik reminded himself. _I do not kill women or children. _The monster continued on his way out of the labyrinth, wishing he had not been sucked into the love he had avoided for so long.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm? What? I have no idea what you're talking about *sarcasm*! Yeah, sorry about not updating Haunted in a bit, or Vivre est Mort. I've just been busy with school and stuff like that.<strong>

**Okay, so basically, this story is a shout-out to say this; MEG AND ERIK ARE NEVER GOING TO LOVE EACH OTHER! Well, I know that I used Leroux Erik, but that makes it all the more realistic! Plus, I only like working with Leroux and Kay Eriks because Butler Erik is all like "THE WORLD HATES ME!" and then Kay Erik would come in and try snapping his neck, but couldn't because he's limited to ghost abilities.**

**Butler Erik: **THE WORLD HATES ME!

**Kay Erik: **Curse you.

**Leroux Erik: **Curse you.

**Butler Erik: **:(

**Kay Erik: **Please die. I insist.

**Leroux Erik: **I would like to show you around my underground house. Perhaps the torture chamber would be the best room to start with.

**Me: **OMG THERE'S SO MANY ERIK'S EVERYONE PICK AN ERIK AND RUN!

**ALL Erik's: **e_e

**Me: **I pick Kay Erik! YAY! *runs away with Erik slung over shoulder* Thank goodness you're skinny!

**Leroux Erik: ***starts eating as much as he can* Will not... be taken... away... because of... skinnyness...

**Butler Erik: **THE WORLD HATES ME! - Oh wait, people actually want me... I FEEL SO LOVED!


	2. Scenario Impossible 2

Opening his eyes, Erik was greeted by a clean, white ceiling. _What the... _he silently mouthed. His head was pounding – he was probably having a hangover. Christine had left the night before, with that Vicomte. Drinking was the only solution, he had decided, but now it seemed pretty stupid. _To think I caused this by myself, _he scolded himself.

Sitting up in the bed, he sighed and looked around. _Nope. This is a dream. I will wake up and Christine will still be in the dark about me, that Vicomte will not be in my way, none of this would have happened, because this... is a nightmare._

He was greeted by a room fashioned to the style of the 2000s. Face spasming, he got out of bed to realize he was wearing pajamas. _This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. _He continued that phrase over and over in his head.

When he walked into the living room, the phrase went through his head fast and loud. _THIS IS A NIGHTMARE. THIS A IS NIGHTMARE. NIGHTMARE IS THIS A. A IS THIS NIGHTMARE. PONIES ARE COOL. THIS IS A NIGHTMARE. NIGHTMARE IS THIS._

Grasping a pillow from one of the couches, he went down the hallway to the kitchen. Walking in, he hugged it to his chest, willing this horrible dream to come to an end. Did an end come? Nope.

Seeing a calendar in the room, he approached it to find the date to be December 20, 2012. Noticing that it was a Thursday, he also saw that the single word "Teaching" was printed in the small box. _What? Does it mean teaching Christine? I REALLY hope it doesn't mean..._

Erik strolled into the classroom, put his briefcase down, and gazed around the room. Looking at the clock, he sorrowfully counted down the seconds until the buses released those animals (AKA: children) and he would have to put up with them for half the day, and then another group would come. _10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1.._

He heard the doors burst open and laughter erupt through the silence. Taking his place in front of the classroom entrance, he readied himself to greet the kindergarteners. The first one rounded the corner, walking straight toward him, lollipop in one hand and yo-yo in the other. The kid dropped the yo-yo in order to pick his nose. _Eww..._

When the kid finally got to him, Erik said through his teeth, "Hello, James, put your seat down and start the classwork."

He greeted each kid this way (yes, _exactly _this way, INCLUDING the "Hello, James") until he got weird looks from the girls, to which he switched to "Hello, Jesse, put your seat down and start the classwork" (apparently there are only two different names in the class).

After the bell rang, he did attendance. Seeing that everyone was there, he started his lesson.

Three hours later he was fired.

* * *

><p>SPOOFS:<p>

"Hello, Mr. Erik!" Jesse said.

"It is Monsieur Opera Ghost, not 'Mr. Erik'. Get your greetings right!"

~!~

"Mon...Mon... Mr. Erik, how do ya say that 'm' word?"

Erik = FACEPALM


	3. Scenario Impossible 3

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

Erik strolled slowly through the lair, not knowing why he was singing. He glanced around at the unfamiliar furniture and nervously wondered where the *harpsichord* his house went. Turning back to Christine, he saw that her face had a hypnotized look on it. He smiled. He knew his voice had that affect on people.

Still, it bothered him that his house was gone, and all this random stuff was laying around in its stead. Perhaps he hadn't built it well enough and it collapsed?

The question was deemed ridiculous in an instant. Of course he built it well – why would he only put half his effort into a place where he was going to _live_? Also, even if it did collapse, that still wouldn't answer the part about all the strange new items in his house.

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

Wait a minute, was the Louis-Philippe room still there? Erik ran up the steps to check it out, desperately hoping that it was still there. Unfortunately, it was not. What was he supposed to do now? "I am truly, deeply sorry, Christine. It appears that the room I was going to let you stay in after I kidnapped you has disappeared. I guess I'll just have to bring you back up to the Opera House" did not seem like the right way to go about it.

Maybe in the midst of all this *clarinet* there was a bed he could use? His eyes stayed to a giant, white swan bed off to the side of the lair. It wasn't as good as the bed he had prepared for Christine, but it would have to do.

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

Turning back to Christine, his eyes widened as he took in that she looked different than before. Gone were her beautiful, golden locks – in their place were some hideous brunette curls that looked much too like all the other ballet rats'. Perhaps she was wearing a wig?

The question of "Why is she wearing a wig?" did not dare breach his thoughts, as it was too afraid to enter the crazy clutter which was Erik's mind at this instant. Perhaps he had mistaken a different girl.

Reaching out to get a closer look at her, she grabbed his hand and stood up, stepping out of the boat. She was still entranced with his voice. Maybe he should stop singing...? Was it possible that everything could be sorted out once he stopped singing?

_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor_

*Drum* it all, for some reason he couldn't stop singing! He didn't even know why he was even singing! Maybe he had finally gone insane. Scratch that, he already was crazy. So what had happened? What had happened in the time that he had crossed the lake with Christine and gotten to his shore?

Erik was sure that Christine had been her beautiful self just minutes ago on the other shore, thus his reasoning that something happened during the boat ride. That meant she was not wearing a wig, unless she had extra-special-wig-applying powers, which, although she was the most perfect person ever, she did not have.

What the *flute* had happened?

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

This was starting to get annoying. Correction; it had been annoying for a while now.

Christine was in his arms now. Oh, the unthinkable misdeeds he was committing! Why couldn't he control his hands? Why was Christine letting him touch her like that – him! with the ugly, terrifying face!

He needed to stop singing now. Why was he singing?

He returned his thoughts back to reality. He was... he was touching Christine – dirtying her pure self with his horridness. Such was a serious crime! To think that he would even dream of touching her like that was a sin! This needed to stop this instant!

_Turn your face away from the gar -_

He didn't sing the rest of the line. He was too busy crying, ashamed of what he had done. The new, brunette Christine stared at him with confusion, wondering why he was sobbing so much. This couldn't be his Christine! This girl was too naïve – unintelligent – gullible – stupid to be her! Who the *french horn* was, then?

Collapsing onto his knees, Erik buried his face into his hands, crying his heart out. He mumbled out in broken phrases, "Christine... Erik never meant... hurt you... Erik is a terrible monster... so sorry... could never ask... forgiveness... he doesn't deserve..."

Meanwhile, the brown haired Christine had no idea what was going on. It didn't seem at all odd to her that her Angel of Music was wearing a full face mask instead of the half mask he was just wearing, or that he was referring to himself in third person. She didn't pick up on any of this.

So saying, she was utterly confused by the man's change of behavior. And it shall not stray from the story to say that even as she spoke to her grandchildren thirty years later about this incident, she still did not understand. Perhaps it was for the best.

**AN: Well thank goodness she didn't find out the real reason! That would've blown her mind, right?**

**This chapter was written because of that wonderful, inspiring comment made by Goddess Eirene, which goes as follows;**

"_**This is amazing. :) I should love it if one day, while watching the 2004 movie, Emmy Rossum turned to the mirror to see... Leroux-Erik. Good luck singing 'Music of the Night' with HIM, darling. He'll probably break down six lines in and beg for forgiveness."**_

**As you all can see, there are only six lines of the song in this story. I tried to stay as close to Goddess Eirene's idea as possible. What do you all think?**


End file.
